


a herald, signifying nothing

by whatsarasays



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Exploration of Motive, F/M, Gen, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsarasays/pseuds/whatsarasays
Summary: A snap of Higgs' fingers and BTs clawed threats down into black inky depths. A flick of his wrist and tar swallowed them whole. By decree of the Extinction Entity herself, all power of the Death Stranding had been his to wield.But here he was, a thing he’d sworn never to be again:Finite.
Relationships: Fragile & Higgs Monaghan, It's Complicated
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	a herald, signifying nothing

In a lifetime of swings and blows, the caress stood out. The brush was benevolent. Humane. Fragile’s aged fingers glided across the bridge of his nose, while her gloved hand gently wiped away the chiral residue from beneath his eye. Washing away the dirt as if he were some fallen child in need of soothing. Despite the protests of his battered body, Higgs forced himself further up onto his elbows and further into her touch.

When she took his collar and drew him in, he wondered at her, limp-mouthed and wide-eyed.

The crack to his jaw silenced his bewilderment.

Fragile was not mercy.

She was justice.

One blackout later, he awoke to Sam kicking him in the kidney and hauling him up by the harness of his odradek. The taste of iron still smarted between his teeth. Sam then strung him up at the wrists, and with an aggressive yank, freed him of Amelie’s quipu. Higgs gritted his molars, forcing himself to bite back the story of how Amelie had gifted him the necklace, just as Sam had gifted it to her.

His anger plummeted to fear when he heard the metallic click of a loaded round. Fragile trained her sights on him. He’d been on the receiving end of too many barrels to count, but he’d also had a way to deflect the bullets—a connection to the Beach. A snap of his fingers and BTs clawed threats down into black inky depths. A flick of his wrist and tar swallowed them whole. By decree of the Extinction Entity herself, all power of the Death Stranding had been his to wield.  
  
But here he was, a thing he’d sworn never to be again:

Finite.

Fragile’s finger tensed around the trigger.

Adrenaline turned his heart into a hammer.

When a smattering of bullets smacked into the ground instead of his chest, he yelped in shock. It took him a half-moment to realize he wasn't dead. Not yet. A few uneven curses slipped out as he tried to steady himself. Shaking the tension from his shoulders, he growled, “Didn’t Papa Fragile ever teach you not to play with your food?”

“Listen to me,” Fragile said, striding too close. He tried not to rear back. In a world of disconnection, she demanded frightening familiarity. The kind of intimacy which convicted instead of comforted. “The only reason you’re not dead is that I need answers. So, you’re going to tell me everything.”

Higgs collapsed back on his haunches and broke into threaded laughter. If he fancied himself as Isfet, then Fragile was Ma’at. The frigid balance to his scorching chaos. The lawfulness to his anarchy. It’s no wonder they revolved around one another so nicely.

“Why did you betray me?” She demanded, interrupting his breakdown by thrusting the muzzle against his temple, “What do you know? I want all of it.”

“Stop,” the word was punctuated by the blood he spat out with it. “It’s hard to think with that thing pointed at my face.” They stared for a beat, each daring the other. When she didn’t let up, he pushed his luck, “Do you mind?”

“You flirt with death too much.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” more mirthless chuckles rasped out of him, “quite the opposite, I’m afraid. Seems like my big song and dance number didn’t fix that, though.”

As she pondered his answer, the snout of the rifle drifted downward, “That doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t shut up about how we couldn’t avoid this extinction.”

“Not about seekin’ out death, it’s about dyin' on your own terms,” Higgs drawled, using his shoulder to smear away the blood dribbling down his chin, “If there’s no hope, why not instigate the whole goddamn thing? Go out on top and with a bang?”

Fragile crouched before him, pinning him with that heavy-lidded gaze he was coming to dread, “So, how does it feel then, to face death not as a god, but as a man?”

The question perforated the last vestiges of his bravado. Whatever Sam hadn’t already beaten out of him. Everything about her was a pinprick, a shiny sharp end of fractured glass. For that, he could only blame himself. Higgs shook his head before letting it lull to the side. After a rough swallow, he managed to scrape out,

“Like shit.”

“Good. Now start talking.”

Higgs spilled everything. Every secret, every detail, every ill-laid plan. Defeat clung to him like his soggy fatigues and greasy hair. As the questioning went on, Fragile surprised him by settling cross-legged on the ground next to him. That she kept the rifle fixed on him the entire time was less surprising.

The line of interrogation ended when she gingerly laid the gun to one side. Leather creaked as she stood and pulled on her glove, fingers flexing. With a final glance and a single nod, she turned on heel and began to saunter away.

“Wait. Wait!” He jolted up after her, but lost his footing without his arms to balance himself—still bound as they were—and tumbled back to his knees in a spray of sand, “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“There is a way out, Higgs,” Fragile called back, but did not turn to face to him as she continued to walk, “Take it whenever you like.”

Higgs watched her retreating form until she gathered her duffle bag, unfurled her umbrella, and blinked out of existence.

The crashing waves sang a white sound song in her absence.

Beaches used to marvel him. Greyscale and calm; wondrous in their desaturation and potential. He remembered when Fragile first brought him to her beach. Beaming with excitement, he’d let out a long low whistle and given her a wink. She'd beamed back. They’d strolled along the shore as they’d mapped out their conquest of the shipping industry, leaving behind parallel pairs of watery boot-prints in the sand.

The overcast sky held no promise now. The humid ocean air, no future greatness.

Sitting back on his heels, Higgs glanced down at the gun she’d left behind.


End file.
